Chapter 3

Legna materialized in her bedroom, the familiar pop of displaced air the only announcement of her arrival. Still, Noah would know she had returned. Being her brother aside, Noah was always sensitive to the proximity of all sources of energy. Legna moved to her bed, sitting down slowly as she exhaled a deep, cleansing breath. There was comfort in the protection of her brother's house, although, at times, she did find herself agreeing with Bella's desire to have a little solace, a few precious moments of privacy.

She knew it was strange for her to feel this way. She was a Demon. Demons thought privacy was an outdated human concept. What use were secrets amongst creatures who, no matter what element their abilities were drawn from, always had some sort of innate sensory perception that almost immediately told them the nature of an encountered situation? Noah, for instance, could have the manor packed with guests on special occasions, a hundred or more, and he would be aware of every single energy signature, where it was, and what it was doing. Legna's sense of emotion was equally vast. She would know, even without purposely seeking it out, who was arguing, who was laughing, who was making love, and who was as drunk as the proverbial skunk. They had all lived long, seen it all, done things far more exposed to criticism or embarrassment. What difference did walls or knocking make? A philosophy Gideon clearly lived by. The part he forgot was the common respect of choosing his moments to suddenly cross certain boundaries.

Still, to be alone in her thoughts, in her actions. The idea had a certain appeal to it. Why it appealed to Legna at this particular time of her life, she did not know. It just did. It was a false ideal, she knew. Nightwalkers abounded throughout the world and the human concept of privacy was an illusion of ignorance being bliss.

Still …

She was restless, and she knew it was only a matter of time before others besides her intuitive sister and brother began to pick up on it even more than they already had. Traditionally, when Demons were perceived as dramatically restless or unhappy, they were guided into a group of mentors and bombarded with attentiveness and counseling. It was a common belief that Demons without a sure awareness of themselves and their goals could be led astray. They were too powerful a species to be allowed to give in to emotional whims and be left open to potentially negative influences. Demons felt that guiding one another was one of the most primary purposes of their lives.

Becoming Corrine's guide in meditation, for example. Young and confused, recovering from the terrible starvation sickness that had almost killed her as it had Mary's mate, who could allow such a lost one to go without guidance and support? It would be barbaric. Siddah were another example. Being the Demon version of what humans called a godparent was the duty of every Demon. All adults and Elders fostered the children of their loved ones, giving them the firmer hand of guidance that sometimes parents had difficulty doing themselves. Legna was of course Siddah to two of her sister's children. However, beyond that as-yet-unrealized role, she was also one of many Mind and Body Demons who became mentors to the dissatisfied souls of Demons who had lost their internal compasses.

Had she, too, fallen into this disturbing category? Or was she only just beginning a journey toward that disembodied state of being? Oddly enough, the nature of her feelings led her to suspect that all the attention and constant companionship that would follow any sort of confession of restlessness would be exactly the opposite of what she wanted.

She had felt this way ever since the Summoning. It had come on her gradually at first, almost unnoticed. Then she had begun to display short bursts of temper, something she had almost never done before. It had been excusable the first and second time it had happened, considering what she had gone through, but what about the third time? The fourth? It was so out of her character that it was a wonder she wasn't already in the midst of a mentored intervention. Then again, she had gone out of her way to hide the occurrences, smoothing them over in a way that probably only a skilled Mind Demon could get away with, using her mind and her ability to draw in those of any power with the enchantment of her soothing voice. But along with those soft manipulations of emotions and people's perceptions of her temper came guilt and remorse and the feeling that she was misusing her abilities. This only added to her confusion. Demons were rarely apologetic for the things they did with their abilities. What was the purpose of a power if it went unused? And she agreed with that. Usage of ability deserved no excuses, unless it betrayed the boundaries of the law or certain moral and professional ethics.

She would have been lying if she told herself these alterations in her perspectives and personality did not frighten her. There wasn't a night that went by that she didn't speculate that perhaps Bella's protection during the Summoning had not been as complete as they had all thought. Before Legna's rescue, there had been only one Demon to ever be retrieved quickly from a necromancer's pentagram. The result had been tragic, the pitiable creature rapidly going mad, attacking his brethren and behaving in manic and perverted ways. So the rescue had meant nothing, and Jacob had been forced to destroy the tormented soul after all.

What if that was slowly happening to her as well? Perhaps she was being foolish and arrogant to believe she would be the only Demon to ever escape a Summoning completely unscathed. If this was the case, did it make her a coward that she wasn't doing the right thing and letting someone know her fears?

Legna gained her feet again, rubbing her hands together as if they were chilled, pacing the ornate woven carpet that covered the stone floor, her silken slippers barely making a whisper of sound and the sheer outer panels of her gown fluttering in the breeze her movements created.

Realizing what she was doing, she stopped short, glancing heavenward and seeking strength for a moment. She moved to the window, pulling the drapes aside so she could see the vast lawns and gardens that stretched out before the grand castle. Noah's choice of a home was clearly a throwback to the time in which he had been born. Like him, she had always felt more comfortable in its environment than in the more modern choices that were available.

Dawn was starting its approach and she should be tired, preparing for bed, and getting ready to snuggle down in the warm sunlight-streamed room for the day. Legna glanced at the magnificent four-poster bed behind her, even going so far as moving to touch the heavy tapestry bed curtains she had made for it many decades past. The scenes depicted within reflected all those she had loved at the time, most of whom existed still. She touched the figure of a dark-haired, jovial male Demon who was prevalent in the artwork, his image repeated often.

Lucas.

Her Siddah, her mentor. The man who had become as much a father to her as her brother had become after their father's death. She had never been at a loss for strong males in her life, and she had adored every one of them. They had taught her so much, molded her into who she was, striking the perfect balance between guidance and freedom, discipline and contentment.

And now, along with her father and her mother, Lucas was dead. She closed her eyes, shaking her head to try and ward off the last images she had been given of Lucas. Darling Lucas, trapped in a pentagram across from her, spouting her most precious secret, her power name, for all to hear and use against her. And, the ultimate betrayal, his poor body and soul twisted into those of a demoralized monster.

That was the night Legna had learned what it truly meant to hate another creature. She had never thought herself capable of it, but she had felt it like a white and black poison burning through her every cell, scorching beneath her skin until she was certain her pores would ooze with the vileness of it. It had struck her in the moment she'd finally gotten her hands on one of the four human magic-users responsible for the travesty that had forced the end of Lucas's precious life. She had acted on her rage and, for the first time in all her years, Legna had learned what it meant to let loose her instinctual animal nature.

It was this nature within her that had wrapped her hands around the throat of the necromancer who had dared to be a party to caging Legna and her mentor. This living predator inside of Legna had refused to let go, encouraging the female Demon to plunge her mind into the psyche of the necromancer, visiting a relentless mental hell upon the offending creature until the reprehensible girl was dead from the horrors of her own twisted mind.

What had frightened Legna about the act was not the fact that she had discovered herself capable of taking a life, but that she had thrown her face and voice up into the night and enjoyed it so wildly. In that moment, it had seemed as though she had never known such delight, and it had taken hours until she had finally begun to come down from the rush of it. It had been days before the high had dissipated completely. To say that she had felt bereft afterward would have been an understatement In fact, she wasn't certain she had ever gotten over the resulting emptiness. Had she so enjoyed being a killer? Or was it the idea of revenge she had soared upon? As a Demon, she had never been led to believe that self-defense and even retribution were things to be feared, so long as the laws of her people were followed closely. But still, this aftermath had disturbed her greatly, and five months later it showed no signs of being resolved.

A sudden prickling of the hairs on the back of her neck brought Legna's attention sharply from her soul-searching. Her head came up, her sensory abilities extending from her like a rippling blanket, seeking to identify the disturbance approaching her.

And it was an approach. She was certain of it.

No sooner had the thought crossed her mind then the air in the room displaced itself from the sudden occupation of Gideon's imposing figure in the center of the floor. There was no scent of sulfur, as she usually left behind in these instances, but that only told her that the Mind Demon who had transported the medic to this location had been an Elder, stronger and more skilled than an adult like her.

The Ancient's arrival at that particular moment had an extraordinarily disturbing effect. If there was anyone amongst her people who would be able to determine the meaning of the changes she was feeling within herself, Gideon would probably be it. And, of course, she would have preferred to burn in hell before asking such a private thing of him. Yet now he was here, as if bidden by her thoughts, standing in that always so self-assured manner he had, and looking elegant and spotless in the old-world style of clothing he favored more often than he did the modern attire in his wardrobe. Right then, he wore white from head to toe, relieved only by silver embroidery that perfectly picked up his natural coloring. He wore breeches of a soft cottonlike material that fit him like a second skin and extended into leather boots of the softest tan color possible before it could be called beige. They reached up to just below his knee, so that he looked like he was going riding. As was his habit, he wore a silken shirt with long, piratical sleeves that rippled from his extremely broad shoulders to cuffs of soft lace, the delicate material resting along the backs of powerful hands, his long fingers finished elegantly in spotlessly manicured fingernails. He wore a single ring, a silver loop on his thumb shaped into the medics' signet.

Legna looked away from him before she found herself doing an overly accurate mental description of the way the laces of the shirt were neglected beneath his throat, allowing the material to gape haphazardly over his collarbone. Suffice it to say, Gideon wore the habits of his lifetime like an unapologetic statement, and he wore them very well. He blended the male fashions of the millennium in a way that was nothing less than a perfect reflection of who he was and how he had lived. This only served to beautify his distinctive and powerful presence with his incidental confidence.

"Gideon," she said evenly, inclining her head in sparse respect. "What brings you to my chambers so close to dawn?"

The riveting male before her remained silent, his silver eyes flicking over her slowly. Her heart nearly stopped with her sudden fear, and immediately she threw up every mental and physical barrier she could to prevent an unwelcome scan and analysis of her health.

"I would not scan you without your permission, Magdelegna. Body Demons who become healers have codes of ethics the same as any others."

"Funny," she remarked, "I would have thought you to believe yourself above such a trivial matter as permission."

His mercury gaze narrowed slightly, making Legna wish that she had the courage to dare a piratical scan of her own. She was quite talented at masking her travels through the emotions and psyches of others, but Gideon was like no other. She was barely a fledgling to one such as he.

Gideon had noted her more recent acerbic tendencies aloud once before, irritating the young female even more than usual, so he resisted the urge in that moment to scold her again and instead let her attitude pass.

"I have come to check on your well-being, Magdelegna. I am concerned."

Legna cocked a brow, twisting her lips into a cold, mocking little smile, hiding the sudden, anxious beating of her heart.

"And what would give you the impression that you need be concerned for me?" she asked haughtily.

Gideon once more took his time before responding, giving her one more of those implacable perusals in the interim. Legna exhaled with annoyance, crossing her arms beneath her breasts and coming just shy of tapping her foot in irritation.

"You are not at peace, young one," Gideon explained softly, the deep timbre of his voice resonating through her, once again giving her the feeling that she was but fragile crystal, awaiting the moment when he would strike the note of discord that would shatter her. Legna's breathing altered, quickening in spite of her effort to maintain an even keel. She did not want to give him the satisfaction of being right.

"You presume too much, Gideon. I have no need for your concern, nor have I ever solicited it. Now, if you do not mind, I should like to go to bed."

"For what purpose?"

Legna laughed, short and harsh. ‘To sleep, why else?"

"You have not slept for many days together, Legna. Why do you assume you might have success today?"

Legna turned around sharply, driving her gaze and attention out the window, trying to use the sprawling lawn as a slate with which to fill her mind. Mind Demon he was not, but she knew he was capable of seeing far enough into her emotional state by just monitoring her physiological reactions to his observations. Legna bit her lip hard, furious that she should feel like the child he always referred to her as in their conversations. Young one, indeed. How would he like it if she referred to him as a decrepit old buzzard?

The thought gave her a small, petty satisfaction. It did not matter that Gideon looked as vital and vibrant as any Demon male from thirty years to a thousand would look. Nor did it matter that his stunning coloring gave him a unique attractiveness and aura of power that no one else could equal. All that mattered was that he would never view her as an equal, and therefore, in her perspective, she had no responsibility to do so for him.

Gideon watched the young woman across from him closely, trying to make sense of the physiological changes that flashed through her rapidly, each as puzzling as the one before it. What was it about her, he wondered, that always kept him off his mark? She never reacted the way he logically expected her to, yet he knew her to be extraordinarily intelligent. She always treated him with a barely repressed contempt, though she never had a harsh word for anyone else. He had almost gotten used to that since their original falling-out, but this was different, far more complex than hard feelings. Gideon had not encountered a puzzle in a great many centuries, and perhaps that was why he was continually fascinated by her in spite of her marked disdain.

"It is not unusual," she said at last, "to have periods of insomnia in one's life. Surely that is not what has you rushing into my boudoir, oozing your high-handed version of concern."

"Magdelegna, I am continually puzzled by your insistence in treating me with hostility. Did Lucas teach you nothing about respecting your elders?"

Legna whirled around suddenly, outrage flaring from her so violently that Gideon felt the eddy of it push at him through the still air.

"Do not ever mention Lucas in such a disrespectful manner ever again! Do you understand me, Gideon? I will not tolerate it!" She moved to stand toe to toe with the medic, her emotions practically beating him back in their intensity. "You say respect my elders, but what you mean is respecting my betters, is that not right? Are you so full of your own arrogance that you need me to bow and kowtow to you like some throwback fledgling? Or perhaps we should reinstate the role of concubines in our society. Then you may have the pleasure of claiming me and forcing me to fall to my knees, bowing low in respect of your masculine eminence!"

Gideon watched as she did just that, her gown billowing around her as she gracefully kneeled before him, so close to him that her knees touched the tips of his boots. She swept her hands to her sides, bowing her head until her forehead brushed the leather, her hair spilling like reams of heavy silk around his ankles.

The Ancient found himself unusually speechless, the strangest sensation creeping through him as he looked down at the exposed nape of her neck, the elegant line of her back. Unable to curb the impulse, Gideon lowered himself into a crouch, reaching beneath the cloak of coffee-colored hair to touch her flushed cheek. The heat of her anger radiated against his touch and he recognized it long before she turned her face up to him.

"Does this satisfy you, my lord Gideon?" she whispered fiercely, her eyes flashing like flinted steel and hard jade.

Gideon found himself searching her face intently, his eyes roaming over the high, aristocratic curves of her cheekbones, the amazingly full sculpture of her lips, the wide, accusing eyes that lay behind extraordinarily thick lashes. He cupped her chin between the thumb and forefinger of his left hand, his fingertips fanning softly over her angrily flushed cheek.

"You do enjoy mocking me," he murmured softly to her, the breath of his words close enough to skim across her face.

"No more than you seem to enjoy condescending to me," she replied, her clipped words coming out on quick, heated breaths.

Gideon absorbed this latest venom with a blink of lengthy black lashes. They kept their gazes locked, each seemingly waiting for the other to look away.

"You have never forgiven me," he said suddenly, softly.

"Forgiven you?" She laughed bitterly. "Gideon, you are not important enough to earn my forgiveness."

"Is your ego so fragile, Legna, that a small slight to it is irreparable?"

"Stop talking to me as if I were a temperamental child!" Legna hissed, moving to jerk her head back but finding his grip quite secure. ‘There was nothing slight about the way you treated me. I will never forget it, and I most certainly will never forgive it!"

Gideon reached out, taking her by both of her shoulders, hauling her up with him as he regained his height. He unintentionally pulled her off balance, forcing her to sway into his body slightly in order to prevent herself from teetering further off center. Her soft curves skimmed against the harder planes of his torso for all of a second. The Ancient male felt a sensation shimmer through him that he couldn't immediately define, his silvery brows knitting with his momentary confusion. The situation was too volatile to waste time on a cursory sensation, however, so he put it aside as he put Legna at arm's length.

"Legna, I do not need to explain to you the difficulties we all experience during the Hallowed moons. Especially the Samhain moon. I never meant to cause you pain. I have always been disturbed by my lack of control that night"

"Oh, I am sure you have," Legna hissed, fighting back the embarrassing sting of tears that threatened to overwhelm her. "How awful it must have been for you to realize you had defiled your wondrous ancientness with the kiss of an infant."

Legna pulled herself out of his hold, turning her back on him violently as the back of her hand tried to press back the sound of pain brewing behind her trembling lips. She lost her battle with her tears, shamed to feel them skid down her flushed cheeks.

They had barely spoken of that night—a mere nine years back—mostly because Legna could hardly stay in the same room with Gideon for more than five minutes at a time. But much of their gap in communication was because Gideon had been in a self-imposed exile for the past eight years, driven there by his shame over having stalked a human female and being forced to face the humiliating justice of the Enforcer as a result. The incident with the human female had taken place the very next Samhain moon after the one that had caused the rift between Legna and Gideon. To Legna it had only served to add insult to injury, forcing a shameful pain upon her that magnified that of the original encounter.

And she remembered that night, that moon, the entire incident as keenly as if it had happened five minutes ago.

She had been restless that particular full moon, much in the way she had been feeling only recently. But as expected, on that Hallowed night it was intensified a thousandfold. She had been pacing the gardens, chilled by the clouds that drifted over the bright moon, waiting impatiently for Noah to emerge from Council. She had been hoping he would somehow be able to distract her, keep her from going stir-crazy. But as she had wandered the distant mazes of sculpted bushes, it was Gideon she had stumbled across. She had been surprised, not having sensed him at all. What was more, Council was in session and he was one of the Triumvirate, one of the three most powerful voices at the Council table.

He had stood there, his face turned up to the moon, as if he were a wolf ready to bay in worship of it His powerful body was locked rigidly in place, every muscle flexed, tensed to react to whatever came across his path. Legna's senses had suddenly flared to life, no longer unaware of his presence, and she was overwhelmed with the emotions abruptly radiating off the usually serene Ancient. He was holding a rash of wild impulses barely in check, his need crashing over her like a violent tide, making her gasp aloud in shock from the force of it.

Gideon had turned then, the speed of the movement barely perceptible to her vision. She suddenly, breathlessly, found herself being dwarfed by his presence, his power, and his remarkably vital body. She had no hope of erecting her usual safeguards against such a potent influence. It was far too late in any event. His raw emotions had long since taken over hers. She became a mirror for them, making them hers in a way she hadn't even thought herself capable of.

"Magdelegna."

He spoke her name with a low, predatory sound to his voice. She even heard the guttural growl of contemplation he loosed beneath his breath. It called to Legna's primitive restlessness of that night. She had narrowed her eyes, taking his measure very slowly, unaware of how inviting and sensual an act it was.

Gideon easily saw the rush of her blood as her pulse quickened. He saw her skin flush with awareness in her erogenous zones as she devoured his imposing frame with fearlessness and blatant curiosity. She had stepped closer to him, a soft undulation of her long, feminine body, making him realize that she was only about six inches shorter than he was. It placed her proportionately close to scale against him, and he knew instantly how well she would fit his body if only he closed the small gap that remained between them. Her scent had carried on the still night air, overwhelming the crisp autumn odors all around them with her special perfume of sweet spices and a nectar of ghosting feminine musk from her obviously provoked body.

Gideon had been enthralled by the uniqueness of that scent, his head lowering slightly as he drew a deep breath to bring the bouquet of her beauty deep into his lungs. In the blink of an eye, his hand shot out and seized her by the nape of her neck, jerking her forward toward him so hard that she felt their breastbones collide. She was tall, but Gideon had to lower his head to close the distance between their faces just the same. He held her still, not allowing her to turn her head in any direction he did not wish it to turn. He bent his silvered head until his nose brushed the curve of her swanlike neck.

Legna felt the rush of his breath against that sensitive portion of her skin, unable to resist the shiver that shuddered through her and the impulsive purr that vibrated over her vocal cords. Her senses were bludgeoned with the fierce sharpening of arousal that rocked through the powerful male who held her so possessively. It was safe to say that, as an empath, she had experienced much of this emotion over her centuries from others as they had indulged in passions of the flesh, but she had never felt anything like this in all of her life. She had never even conceived of such overwhelming intensity.

He had wrapped her hair up in his fist, bringing the silky mass to his lips and rubbing it against them slowly, all the while boring into her soul with the hot ice stare of his eyes.

"Magdelegna," Gideon said again, her name a command on his tongue.

She felt him move aggressively against her, making her very aware of his physical response to her closeness. She felt liquid heat slither throughout her entire body just from the understanding of her effect on him, the heated sap coiling into intriguing puddles of arousal in equally intriguing places.

"I could make you feel in ways no female has ever dreamed of feeling," he had promised her, his smooth voice so perfect and so hypnotic with its low, beckoning pitch, creating a whirlpool of desire deep in her soul as his free hand slid to the curve of her waist, moving boldly to the arch of her lower back. It was as if they already knew each other with perfect intimacy, from thought to movement, from feel to touch, from male to female.

Legna's breath came quicker as he aggressively appraised her, his gaze like melting wax, scalding her everywhere it touched her. His fingers came forward over her rib cage, fanning out until each had found a fit in the spaces between the flexible, curved ribs. His thumb slipped under the weight of her breast, slyly stroking the sensitive flesh in a way that shimmered right through her. She gasped softly, her head falling back until her throat was fully exposed to him. He released her hair immediately, his hand covering the alluring expanse she'd provided, his fingers greedily absorbing the vibrations of the low sounds of invitation she made. Then his fingers were moving aside and his lips touched her in their place. His breath was a potent heat against her skin, making her shiver as her flesh exploded in goose bumps all the way from her neck to her heels. His mouth was masculine magic, his lips stroking her in prelude to the damp questing of his tongue.

Her mouth began to ache with the desire to capture the taste and feel of him, her lips tingling and flushed full of blood in a broadcast to him of her need. His mouth came to hers suddenly, hovering above those thirsting lips as he drilled her with the intensity of his mercury gaze.

" Neliss … " he murmured, reverting to the elegance of their ancient language. " Nelissentdesita. "

Beauty of the ages.

His mouth touched on hers at last, and she welcomed him with an eager sound of encouragement White lightning sensation bolted through her, making her taut and weak all at once, bending her back in his hold as he insistently sought her compliance. His lips were sensual against hers, exploring with purposeful tempo, gentle, searching yet not aggressive. Legna thought a little dazedly that she had expected him to be a little harsher in his impatience. She could feel tempestuous emotions radiating from him like the brilliant moonlight at his back. However, the thorough nature of the kiss was very much in character for him. Thoughtful, methodical, and full of supreme confidence as he slowly examined every fine detail of her lips alone. When his tongue touched her lips for the first time, it was a slow stroke along her bottom lip that was like the caress of moist, sensual velvet. Her mouth opened slightly to allow an erotic sound of feminine pleasure to escape on a softly exhaled breath.

For the first time, her eyes slid closed, sparing her the penetrating heat of molten silver, even if it had been from under half-mast lashes. He saw so deeply inside of her, wanted to see so deeply inside of her, and it was as if she were already naked beneath his command of her. His hand against her ribs burned with his body heat, just as the rest of him did, marking her with the intense impression along all the surfaces of her skin.

When she made that aching sound of pleasure, Gideon finally breached her mouth, his tongue slipping past her parted lips, tangling with hers instantly. Her hands came up, her slim fingers sliding along his back, up to his shoulders, finally holding him there with the strength of a butterfly but the power of a Titan. Her touch alone made him groan softly against her, but added to that was the taste of her, so warm and sweet, like sun-warmed nectar, and he was but a bee driven by instinct to drink deeply of her. She hardened him, like liquid metal plunged into water, and it was an eroticism and a weighted agony to feel it. It had been so long since he had craved a woman in any fashion at all, Hallowed moons be damned. Sexual need was one thing, a bodily thing, and a physiological function that he could control better than any other Demon since control of the Body had been his one true mastery for a millennium. Needing Legna was something else entirely, an entity not within his realm of puppeteering.

To Legna, his kiss was yet another perfect reflection of Gideon. Bold, unapologetic, and brutally honest. His entire being radiated his hunger into her, his aroused body moving purposefully against her flushed and pliant one. He allowed her to feel his cravings, to feel the way she expanded his need, and to feel the pleasurable pain of his heavily hardened body as his hips rubbed against her. Then the curiosity and method of his kiss began to stutter in its smooth, controlled feel. He was tripping over the aggressive demands of his Demon nature. She could feel it as he began to devour her with increasing intensity, the surge of the base, animal nature that was such an elemental part of them all. This was her craving. She could not bear a moment more of his gentleness. The burn of the moon was within her, begging for more. Demanding it.

So she played him, played his senses with every feminine trick in the book. She moaned, low and erotic, into his mouth, allowing her feelings to overwhelm her until the single sound duplicated, then chained into soft gasps of aching pleasure. Her hands pulled around to his chest, sliding up to his shoulders, finally diving deeply into the silver hair along the back of his head. She returned his kiss just as assertively as he gave it, refusing to be the only haven for their joined tongues. She reached for the back of his head, holding him to her as she delved deep into his mouth for a richer taste of him.

His response was volatile, his hands grasping the back of her rib cage and hauling her completely off her feet and further into him. Her sensitized breasts were crushed into the hard wall of his chest, her flat belly in completely flush contact with the ridges of his taut abdomen. Her hips were cradled against his, his poorly restrained erection pressing urgently against her. The world began to swing away from her in a dizzying vortex of feeling and she was completely lost to emotion and sensation. His kiss went on and on, bordering on brutality, as if he had crossed a desert bereft of physical contact and she had suddenly become his only oasis. Legna would not realize then how accurate the metaphor floating through her mind actually was.

It was in that moment, on the heels of that thought, that Gideon had suddenly broken away from her, shoving her back away from him so hard that she nearly fell onto her backside. He had cursed richly, using a term she wasn't sure she knew the full meaning of, but could certainly feel its intent. She had been too overwhelmed by her abruptly bereft feelings to make any sense of it. Confusion rushed through her as she tried to comprehend what he was doing.

He swore again, condemning himself, berating her.

"This is madness," he had uttered hoarsely, his hand striking through his hair in a rare expression of disturbed emotion. "You are a child! A child! I am stronger than this. I will not give in to this ridiculous impulse of madness. I refuse!"

And before she was finished hearing the words, he had turned and fled with the preternatural speed of a creature with perfect control over anything he wanted his body to do.

She had been left bereft, insulted, and humiliated beyond words. She had collapsed to the ground, too shocked to even cry, his words ringing brutally against her feminine pride, her delicate ego. And after that, the very next year, he had chased down a woman not even of the same species, stopping only because Jacob had battled him away from the unsuspecting creature.

So no, she had never forgiven him. And until this moment, she had never wept from the injury he had visited upon her.

Gideon watched her closely, knowing she was upset, unable to figure out how to proceed. He was not at all skilled in handling a woman's sensitive emotions. He was not a Mind Demon, after all. He was aware that he had handled the original situation poorly, but he had always been at a loss to figure out how to repair the damage, so he had hoped it would fade with time and things would revert to their normal state. It was an error in thinking that, faced with it as he was at that moment, felt almost as sharp to him as the acts he had committed so arrogantly during the Druidic war. He had made grievous mistakes then, and clearly had done so now as well. One would think that a thousand years would provide enough information to circumvent such errors, but apparently they had not.

Gideon moved closer to her, and Legna could feel his body heat against her back. It always amazed her that the Ancient Demon seemed to radiate an almost humanlike heat in spite of the fact that Demon body temperature was normally five degrees lower than that of the mortals. She felt the intensity clearly, however, and it only served to unsettle her further.

"I wish for you to leave," she said tightly, not looking at anything but the artistry of the garden outside her window. The dawn had come, tingeing the sky rose and orange, its soft colors reflecting off every shiny leaf of every tree in sight She should have been in bed, settling in for the day, relaxing and drifting into dreams that had nothing to do with pain or humiliating tears.

"I will not leave, Magdelegna."

Legna winced inwardly, wishing he would stop using her full call name as he did. It reminded her too clearly of the compelling timbre he had used to beckon her to him all those years ago.

"Fine," she said bitterly, "you can feel free to stay."

She lifted her hand, moving it in the familiar twist that helped her to focus on directing herself to her target. Before she could begin the teleport, the medic had hold of her wrist, locking it tightly in his grip. Legna glared at the elegant fingers circling her hand and finally turned to face the owner of the offending appendage.

"As usual, you are determined to have your way regardless of my feelings, Gideon," she accused sharply. "You are cruel and insensitive. You have no reason for detaining me, and I have no desire to be in your company. Remove yourself," she threatened coldly, "or I will call on my brother and the Enforcers to do it for you."

"Your suppositions are inaccurate. Legna. I have very good reason for detaining you." The Ancient relaxed his hold on her wrist a little, allowing their hands to fall, still linked, between them. Legna knew, however, that it would only take an instant for him to tighten his grasp should she even think about freeing herself. "Reasons, I suspect, you would not care to share widely with others, including your friends, the Enforcers."

"You are uttering nonsense," Legna snorted. "I have nothing to hide."

"Oh, no?" One silver brow lifted in warning, barely giving Legna a moment to step back from him, trying to press herself as far back into the stony window frame as she could. The Demon followed the retreat with ease, his body a mere whisper away from touching hers. "Legna," he murmured softly by her ear, his breath washing down her neck, giving her a heated chill. "I can see what you try to hide from us. I see the power within you that you pretend not to have. I see things that you probably do not even know about yourself. You have changed much in this one short decade, and yet you choose to perform below your aptitude. Perhaps," he murmured softly, an absent hand pushing her hair back gently from the ear he was engaging, "your brother might like to know why his sister behaves the way she does. I know I am quite curious."

"Have I ever mentioned how much I despise you?" Legna hissed out, trying not to notice the peculiar swirls of heat in her body that answered to the stimulation of his touch against her skin. "If you wish to extract intelligence, hire a detective."

"I have always preferred to get my information directly from the best source," he told her, his eyes traveling down the long length of her body once more. It unnerved her whenever he did that. She knew it was nothing more than an assessment, a medical scan, and that he was probably taking her measure in the purely biological ways of a medic, but the quicksilver weight of his gaze always left her feeling heavy and exposed in very feminine places.

"If I answer your questions," she relented at last, all fears put aside as the overwhelming desire to put him at a distance flared wildly into her consciousness, "will you leave me alone?"

"I am afraid that will depend upon the answers, Legna."

"But you will maintain my confidentiality?" she persisted, her eyes dark with suspicion.

"I had thought we had already discussed my bindings to my ethics."

"You never answer me directly!" she snapped at him. "You talk in obscurities so that you can later take an action and fit your words to suit your needs. You are bound to medic ethics, Gideon, but I know full well you are also bound to the Council's ethics. If a conflict should arise, it is the Council ethics you will honor above all else."

"Legna," Gideon said quietly, his voice deep and even, weighed with an eerie seriousness that made her become very still. "My primary concern is, and always has been, for the health of those I serve. No matter who they are, no matter what it takes for me to reach my goal of a cure." He placed a fingertip beneath her chin and raised it to make certain their gazes locked. "If it takes a clear promise that I will respect your confidentiality, no matter what, then you have it. Nothing you tell me will go beyond us."

"Not even to Noah?" she challenged.

"Look at me, Legna. Look at me with all of your power and you will see there are no lies or deceptions. I will not discuss you with anyone. Not to Noah, nor Jacob or anyone else. Not without your permission. I swear it to you, Legna, I will not speak of this to anyone else any more than I spoke of that night between us." He slowly searched her expression of surprise. "Whatever you think of me," he continued, "I have never, in all my vast lifetime, broken my word."

She believed him. Not only because he opened himself to her scan, inviting her to seek out any hidden motive, but because there was something so compelling in the honest concern for her well-being that swirled behind his silver eyes. There was true caring in the absent caress of his fingertips against her jaw. His promise was the purest of truths.

Legna looked away from his tirelessly penetrating gaze, feeling suddenly exhausted, as worn out as she probably should have been after so many days without rest.

"Very well," she acquiesced at last.

Satisfied for the moment, Gideon released his hold on her, stepping back and giving her room to relax and breathe.

"I am compelled to warn you that I am a creature of direct tendencies," he said quietly. "I have heard you explain as much to Isabella, but given the history of your temperament toward me, I feel I should remind you of it so as to avoid you taking any further offense."

"Please," she laughed shortly, rolling her eyes, "I do not believe things can get any worse."

Gideon did not agree with her about that, but he took if as her indication of understanding.

"I have noticed you are trying to hide the true extent of your abilities," he said. "Why?"

"Because I …" Legna drew her bottom lip between her teeth for an anxious moment "I believe it is abnormal for an adult Mind Demon to have such advanced skills. I am a good fifty years from becoming even a rudimentary Elder, and yet I have noticed some of my powers seem to have gotten ahead of themselves." She absently pulled the heavy cloak of her hair into her hands. "I did not wish to draw attention or curiosity to myself."

"So I am correct in assuming that you can teleport without leaving the display of smoke and sulfur behind, as accomplished Elders can?"

"Yes. How did you know that?"

"Because it clearly takes concentration for you to leave those traces of residue with which you are covering up the advanced ability. I have noticed that you have been taking a few seconds longer to teleport when, before this, your speed had increased. This indicated to me that you were taking slightly longer to think about what you were doing. Also, there is no reason why I should have been able to stop you just now. I may be fast and strong, Legna, but you have surpassed being easily distracted long ago. The motion of your wrist is little more than habit and, I believe, an attempt to remind yourself to take that one last step of adding camouflage before the actual teleport I should also mention that I saw you teleport once in an urgent situation where you completely forgot to add the … smoke and mirrors."

Legna blushed and looked down at the carpet, sliding her slipper into a threadbare portion of it in consternation. She had thought she was being careful, and it bothered her to know she had been so transparent to Gideon.

"So, does this make me some sort of mutant?"

"It is far too soon to make a diagnosis of that accuracy," he chided, reaching to take her hand and guiding her into the center of the room. "I need to do an intensive scan, Legna, and for that I need your complete cooperation."

Legna sighed with impatience, her hands resting on her hips in a sign of pique she had clearly adopted from the Druid Isabella.

"I said I would, did I not?"

"There is no need for your acerbic remarks, Magdelegna. I warn everyone before I begin a scan of this nature because it is very intimate. I must touch you, for instance. It is very similar to a mind touch, but it is done both physically and with my power. I may project my astral self into you if necessary. You will have no secrets from me physically at that point."

Legna swallowed, her heart fluttering with anxiety at the idea of allowing herself to be so vulnerable to him. But she had grown weary of the act she had been putting on and the fear that was riding so heavily behind it.

"Well, so long as you do not poke around where you do not belong," she said. Gideon lifted a silver brow, making Legna realize the way what she had just said could be interpreted. Again, her tanned skin blushed a sharp hue of pink. "You know what I mean," she added, unable to look at him for some ridiculous reason. "Stay away from my mind. I know that you are powerful enough to decode brain synapses."

"That is something I do very rarely, for it takes a great deal of effort and can be a bit painful for me. Also, the intrusion of my power on those maps can affect memory patterns."

"My point exactly."

He made no reply. Instead, he began to walk a circle around her, his eyes visually assessing every inch of her body. Gideon noticed immediately that Legna had a tendency toward rapid respiration lately. He was aware of the training her type of Demon went through, and even more personally aware that Legna had always prided herself on her smooth, level nature, so similar to his own with its methodical thoughtfulness before action was spoken or taken. It was often the way of empaths and telepaths from their race to show a face of utter calm and serenity. Lately, whenever Gideon had encountered her, she seemed more emotional, or at least allowing emotion to show in ways she hadn't done since becoming an adult. The point that had compelled him, in fact, was the one they had just argued over. Why now, all of a sudden, was she letting him be aware of her wounded pride from that night that had passed between them? Oh, he had known his thoughtless behavior was very likely to evoke adverse emotions in her, but Legna would never have let them show.

He moved around to her back and stepped closer. He was aware of her closing her eyes and trying to settle her breathing, regulating her flighty pulse with a chosen meditation technique. The change that slid through her physiology was swift and remarkable. She had an impressive control over both her voluntary and involuntary systems, another indication of her skills having risen closer to Elder ability rather than adult.

Gideon reached out to gather her heavy hair in his hands, dropping the silky sheet of it over her shoulder. He then placed his hand on the back of her neck, encircling the warm, slender column as he stepped closer still. He closed his eyes, not a necessary action, but one that helped him focus. Immediately he began to extend his sensory abilities into her, beginning by slipping down the length of her spine and spreading throughout her nervous system.

He felt the electrical feedback sparking through him and he took its measure, finding her to be a little overstressed and hyperaware of her surroundings at that moment, but that was understandable considering her anxiety over the exam itself. He reached deeper into her nerves and synapses, measuring the chemicals within that regulated pain, reflex, and conduction. Unthinkingly, he touched his forehead to the back of her head, his deep, even breaths slipping over her neck and shoulders. He felt her shiver, but from the inside out, and the resulting feedback washed back through him and into his own body, forcing him to mimic the reaction. Startled, Gideon opened his eyes. That sort of response had not happened to him since his adult years. He had long ago learned to prevent himself from being affected by the nervous impulses of a patient he was examining. His brows lowered with puzzlement, but he returned to his task, once more embedding himself deeply into her nervous system, this time reaching cellular levels. He scanned one bundle of nerve structures at a time, picking through them from dendrite to DNA. At the same time, his hands moved over her shoulders, cupping them, curving around her arms.

He splayed his fingers as he came around to her collarbone, embedding himself into the structures and functions of her lungs and heart. He felt the beat of her heart flutter almost uncertainly, but then it began to trip a rapid cadence that was nowhere near what it had been moments ago. Again, Gideon felt a flashback of sensory input, his own heart suddenly speeding up to match hers in perfect syncopation. The medic inhaled sharply, resisting the urge to pull away, to shut himself off from these abnormalities. It was nothing too dramatic, really. Nothing that could be thought of as dangerous. It was simply a peculiar aberration. But the aberration continued to affect him in other ways. Her breath quickened once more, and his did as well. Her body heat blossomed above normal, sending swirls of heat spreading through his tissues.

Gideon pulled away from her suddenly, all of the reactions distracting him so much that he was forced to take a moment to regain his focus and concentration. He glanced down at his hands, shocked to realize they were shaking.

"Is something wrong?"

His eyes darted up. She had turned around to face him. Her skin was flushed, a beautiful coral pink that could have been part of the dawn breaking just outside her window. She was a remarkable work of feminine beauty. He had always thought so, but in that moment, there was more, a depth that he had not been previously aware of. It was a sort of magnetic allure, one that seemed to sing into him, feeling like a hum that vibrated over his nerves, heightening his already sharp awareness of her.

"No," he responded absently to her question. "I do not know," he corrected himself, taking one more step back away from her.

"Gideon, you are worrying me," she said in a soft pitch that was all but breathless.

"It is … unintentional, I assure you. Everything seems to be fine so far. I have only just begun the intensive scan."

"Then why did you stop?"

Why indeed? He could hardly explain to her what he did not understand himself. But he was an Ancient member of this mighty race, the only one of his kind. Certainly he could absorb or circumvent these minor anomalies until it was time to include them in his final analysis. He was more convinced than ever that there was more happening to Legna than met the immediate eye. The solution, however, would not be as easy to discern as he had originally thought.

"I needed a moment to refocus," he explained at last. "I am ready to resume."

"Okay," she said carefully, sounding as though she had not been completely convinced by his explanation. However, she obediently began to turn back around.

"No." He stopped her, a hand on her shoulder. "Remain facing me."

She complied, tossing her hair back over her shoulder so he would not have to move it for her. She did not close her eyes again, this time watching him closely. He flexed the fingers of both hands and then reached for her. This time his target was her waist. His palms slid over the silk of her gown, curving around her hips. Legna was not thin in any human sense of the word. She was a proud display of grand, graceful height and extremely feminine curves. She was fit, just muscular enough to make her quite strong, yet sculpted with a womanly definition. Humans who knew Demon females socially, not realizing they were of a differing species, often referred to them as goddesses or Amazons. Gideon was able to understand why quite easily. Legna would cast a shadow over any female of any race.

He realized he was allowing himself to be distracted and shook his head gently to refocus himself. He fixed his eyes on the track his hands were following, from hips into the distinct curve of her waist, up to the spread of her rib cage. Instantly, he could visualize her internal organs. He scanned them thoroughly, finding the anatomy to be as clean and healthy as those of any Demon of her youthful age. Apparently, though her abilities had aged before her time, her body had not joined them. There was an aberrant condition that struck the occasional Demon, causing them to age faster than they should. Gideon was grateful this was not the case with Legna. It was one of the few diseases that could kill a Demon. The medics had not been able to break down the causes of it, and so could not prepare a solution as yet. Luckily, there had not been a case of it in 103 years.

He slid his hands back down the path they had just traveled, moving closer to her as he spread his fingers and palms over her hips. Legna gasped softly, her body jerking unexpectedly. Instinctively, Gideon held her tightly, not wanting to break the deep connection he was forming.

"Be still," he murmured.

"Forgive me …" she said, the uneasiness of her voice lost on him.

Gideon was quickly checking through her muscular structure and then weaving very gently into the complexities of her reproductive system. Suddenly Legna cried out again, her hands hitting his chest and grabbing fistfuls of his shirt, her entire body trembling from head to toe. This time Gideon gave the reaction his full attention. He looked into her wide eyes, the pupils dilating as he watched. Her mouth formed a soft, silent circle of surprise.

"What are you doing?" she asked, her breath falling short and quick.

"Nothing," he insisted, his expression reflecting his baffled thoughts. "Merely continuing the exam. What are you feeling?"

Legna couldn't put the sensation into words. Her entire body felt as if it were pooling with liquid fire, like magma dripping through her, centering under the hand he had just splayed over her lower belly. So, being the empath she was, she described it the only way she could with any efficiency and effectiveness. She sent the sensations to him, deeply, firmly, without preparation or permission, exactly the way she had received them.

In an instant, Gideon went from being in control of a neutral examination to an internal thermonuclear flashpoint of arousal that literally took his breath away. His hand flexed on her belly, crushing the silk of her dress within his fist.

"Legna!" he cried hoarsely. "What are you doing?"

She didn't even seem aware of him, her eyes sliding closed and her head falling back as she tried to gulp in oxygen. His eyes slid down over her and he saw the flush and rigidity of erogenous heat building with incredible speed beneath her skin. And as it built in her, it built in him. She had created a loop between them, a locked cycle that started nowhere, ended nowhere. All it did was spill through and through them.

"Stop," he commanded, his voice rough and desperate as he tried to clear his mind and control the impulses surging through him. "Legna, stop this!"

Legna dropped her head forward, her eyes flicking open and upward until she was gazing at him from under her lashes with the volatile, predatory gaze of a cat.

A cat in heat.